


No Requiem

by magnusbicon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Confusion, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Introspection, Minor Character Death, but at least magnus and alec are married, that's something!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnusbicon/pseuds/magnusbicon
Summary: “What’s wrong, Alexander? What happened?”Alec looks into his own eyes in his reflection, watches as the tears finally spill over, and clenches his jaw.“My father is dead.”





	No Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you might recognize this, and that's because I already posted it before. 
> 
> I've been thinking about it for a while, and I decided to rewrite it. Some aspects are different and some are the same. I just felt like I needed the emotion to shine through more in the beginning, so hopefully I succeeded!

No one ever expects the bad call when they receive it.

No one wakes up in the morning thinking,  _Today is the day I’ll receive horrible news_. No, everyone likes to think that they’re invincible, and that the people they love are as well. That denial is much easier than the thought of losing, of having a piece of themselves ripped away in an instant. 

No one signs up for that pain and confusion, and especially not the anger. 

Alec certainly didn’t, yet here he is, standing in the hallway of his and Magnus’ apartment building, unable to pull his gaze away from his phone. His ears are ringing, but he can just barely hear a squeal of laughter come from the other side of the door, and he knows he can’t go inside yet. It must be written all over his face; not to mention the shaking of his hands. He takes a few deep breaths to center himself before pressing his lips together and locking his phone screen, shoving the device into his pocket. 

_Out of sight, out of mind_. That’s the saying right?

He wishes it actually worked.

The doorknob is cold when he wraps his fingers around it, and a chill runs down his spine as he pushes it open, unsure how he’s supposed to act normal, knowing what he knows. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s putting up a front when his wellbeing is in danger. 

He pushes the door open and forces a smile onto his face as Madzie runs toward him, her arms outstretched and expecting him to catch her. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up and spin her around a couple times, and he lets her contagious laugh sink into his chest and wrap around his aching heart. 

It isn’t a cure, but it helps.

When he sets her down a moment later she immediately begins going into detail about her day with Magnus, recounting everything they did from building a fort out of sheets to going to get ice cream, and Alec nods along enthusiastically, but he can’t hide his real feelings from Magnus. He’s never been able to. That’s the entire reason they’re together now.

They meet eyes over Madzie’s shoulder, and it’s almost enough to make him break down then and there, but he holds it in even as his throat tightens and his eyes flood with tears. He blinks them away quickly, not wanting to alarm his niece, and stands up.

“Why don’t we let your uncle settle in, sweetpea?” Magnus suggests, sending a wisp of magic out of his finger to tickle her side. The distraction works, and Alec disappears into their bedroom, immediately stepping into the bathroom and looking at himself in the mirror. He’s sure he’s imagining it, but there’s something different about his face.

He wonders if this is what being truly lost looks like. 

Magnus enters sometime later, slowly moving up to Alec’s side with eyes full of so much concern Alec is sure he could heal the whole world if only he was powerful enough. 

“Catarina just picked Madzie up. I told her you were tired and couldn’t say goodbye.” He reaches out and smooths his hand over Alec’s bangs, a comforting gesture that he knows Alec appreciates. 

“Thank you,” Alec says, but it really comes out as more of a whisper, and Magnus hums sadly, resting his hand on Alec’s cheek. 

“What’s wrong, Alexander? What happened?”

Alec looks into his own eyes in his reflection, watches as the tears finally spill over, and clenches his jaw. 

“My father is dead.”

⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐

Shadowhunters from all over the world travel to the New York Institute to mourn the death of Robert Lightwood, going on and on about how respectable he was and how much he did for the Clave, and every cell in Alec’s body is made up of pure fury. 

He hides it well.

He knows how to exist behind a stone-cold wall, to make sure that no stranger could ever see through to what is behind the exterior. He accepts their condolences, nods his head when they speak well of him, shakes hands and makes small talk, but inside he is screaming.

It had taken a few days for the anger to set in, but once it did, it was all-consuming. He had spent a good portion of his life taking orders from his father, shoving who he was so deep down that there had been a time when he thought he would never recover. He spent years and years trying to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier, the perfect leader, and it had never been enough. His father had tunnel vision, and despite the fact that he preached about upholding the family name, he never once did anything to actually preserve it. He betrayed all of them, treated them as though they were objects for him to tinker with, and Alec doesn’t want to mourn that.

He  _can’t_  mourn that.

How can he feel grief for a man that never existed? 

He was never a father to them. He was only interested in impressing the Clave. He looked at Alec with disgust, lured Isabelle into a false sense of security and then reminded her of his disappointment in her every chance he got, treated Jace and Max like they were invisible. 

He was nothing. He was a sorry excuse for a human being.  

Fire burns brighter in Alec’s veins with every interaction from those who praise him, and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. He wants to change out of these white clothes, to burn them until they’re just a pile of ashes, and he wants the memories of his father to go with them. He does  _not_  respect him, and he does  _not_  miss him.

His heart is not heavy.

“Can I borrow my husband for a second?” Magnus interrupts a woman whose name Alec doesn’t remember in the middle of her story about the one time she had gone on a mission with his father and come close to being killed by a demon before he saved her. He doesn’t wait for her to give her approval, pulling Alec to the side, away from the prying ears that are so common amongst Shadowhunters. “Say the word and I will portal us out of here. You don’t owe him or any of these people anything. You never have.”

The offer is so tempting, and the anger inside of Alec calls out to him, desperate for release, but his eyes land on his siblings and the sorrow on their faces and he knows he can’t. He has to be there for them. He’s the only one who always has been, and he isn’t going to ruin that streak now. 

So he squeezes Magnus’ hand tightly, conveying just how much he wishes they could run out of here right this moment, and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Magnus’ eyes follow his line of sight, and he lets out a sigh. “Of course,” he murmurs, running his free hand down Alec’s arm. “The offer stays open, though. Whatever you need; I’m here.”

Alec meets his eyes then, and though he can’t quite manage a smile, he brushes his knuckles across Magnus’ cheek. There had been a time when the gesture would have sounded like a nightmare to him, considering the fact that they’re surrounded by bigoted Clave members, but he’s grown used to their glares and judgment. Alec is a lot of things, and unapologetic about who he loves is definitely one of them. “Thank you. I love you.”

Magnus’ eyes shine as he smiles, and Alec is instantly reminded of why he rarely feels angry anymore. He has everything he wants, and this situation doesn’t change that. 

If anything, it makes it even more special.

⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐

The room has completely emptied out, leaving Alec standing over where his father lies, and every muscle in his body tenses as he stares at the white sheet that is hiding him from the rest of the world. It’s ironic, really, how this ceremony makes him pure in the eyes of most Shadowhunters.

Alec had stayed awake all night coming up with all of the things he wants to say to him, thinking of ways to release all of the pent-up anger that he had kept inside his entire life, but now, in this moment, he’s coming up empty. 

No words would ever be able to do what he feels justice. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and a shock runs through him when he realizes that tears are welling up in his eyes. He quickly lifts his hand to wipe them away, shaking his head. He thought he had gotten all of that out of the way the other day.

This is all wrong. He is not grieving. He does not miss him.

“I hate you,” he whispers once, more tears surfacing as the words echo in the empty room. “I hate you. I  _hate_  you.” He feels like a broken record, repeating it over and over until his throat feels tight and his lungs are burning.

_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you._

Hands grip his shoulders and turn him around, and before he has a chance to resist he is being pulled into his mother’s arms. She runs a hand over his back as he shakes, his emotions running wild with hatred and confusion and fear. He has never felt so out of control of himself in his life, so unorganized and raw. He feels exposed, like a live wire that will electrocute anything he touches.

“I know,” his mother says against his shoulder. “I know.”

They stay like that for a while, Maryse whispering comforting words as Alec tries to get ahold of himself, and they are silent when they eventually pull away. They stare down at his body for another few moments, and Alec is unsure what he’s expecting to see. He knows that one day he'll be at peace, but it certainly isn’t going to happen now. 

Healing takes time.

“No one will ever understand,” Maryse speaks quietly, and Alec nods in agreement.

_He_  doesn’t understand, and maybe he never will, but he’s starting to think that maybe he doesn’t have to. Sometimes pain doesn’t make sense, and sometimes no matter how hard he searches, the answers aren’t going to be clear. It’s a hard fact to accept, but that’s life, and he plans on living for a long time.

He'll live long enough to make up for every single one of his father’s misdeeds, and even longer after that, and he’ll be happy. That's all he can strive to be in a world so cruel and unpredictable. 

He walks out with his mother by his side five minutes later, his held high, and he doesn’t look back.

He never will again.


End file.
